Jungle Fever

“Octavia! So glad you made it!”

Octavia really, really, really needed this vacation. She was positively knackered, with work causing her no small amount of stress. She hadn’t been on a date in ages, and for just one weekend, she wanted desperately to unwind, forget all of her struggles and just enjoy some time to herself. So, when her old friend Rarity had offered her an all-inclusive weekend at a beautiful tropical resort, a resort that she apparently owned, Octavia dropped everything to accept. However, the closer she got, the stranger things had seemed.

Firstly, the mini-cruise that she took to get to her destination was almost entirely deserted. In fact, aside from the crew and herself, there wasn’t a soul at all on the hours-long voyage. Even stranger, during Octavia’s ride, she did not spy a fellow pony of Equestrian blood; The captain, the waiters, the cleaning staff, all were zebras. Fit, male, very handsome zebras. Nothing wrong with that, just an odd thing that Octavia noticed. A bit on edge, but still, she looked forward to her little vacation. Rarity was a trustworthy, dependable friend, and she had always come through in the past for Octavia. If a relaxing weekend was promised, then Octavia had no reason to expect anything less.

When the ship made anchor, and Octavia disembarked, Rarity was waiting for her. Though always a bit shorter than Octavia (who was admittedly rather tall for a woman), Rarity always projecting enough confidence for the both of them, and nowhere was that more emblematic than in her style of dress; A tight, backless crimson dress hugged her body, with a neckline so deep that it left Rarity just a step or two more covered than a pasty on each breast. Compared to her, Octavia felt a bit frumpy in her much less spectacular slacks and button down.

After a warm greeting with much hugging and cheek kisses, Octavia scooped up her luggage, and Rarity led the way to the hotel portion of the resort, just a short stroll ahead. As they neared it, Octavia looked around, still very confused by the lack of her fellow Equestrian. The few people they did encounter were, again, zebras, in various stages of undress; Some of them where just about presentable, if not for their dress shirts needing buttoning, and others were clad in what could charitably be described as “swimwear”. And even with Octavia doing all she could to avert her eyes and look respectfully, she noticed that every zebra she saw was wearing a name badge somewhere on their person, indicating them as staff.

“Mind if I ask a question?” asked Octavia as they entered the resort hotel. “Where is everyone?”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean, darling?” hummed Rarity curiously.

“Well, if you’re running a resort now, I’d assume you’d need, well. Customers.” Octavia looked about the reception area, just to confirm her previous observations. “But we’re the only ones here, outside of your… staff.”

At that moment, Octavia’s eyes fell on one particular zebra in the corner. Like the other staff members Octavia had glimpsed since arriving, he was tall, broad, toned. Every facet of his appearance oozed power and masculinity, from his bulging pecs to his thick biceps. The raw, sensual, animal attraction was only heightened by his “uniform”; No shoes, no shirt, not even pants. Just a glittering sapphire thong, emphasized by the frankly ludicrous bulge he somehow stuffed into the garment, and a healthy sheen of baby oil. Octavia’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red, and she quickly turned her head in hopes that Rarity hadn’t noticed her staring at one of her employees.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood when I said I owned a resort,” said Rarity. “It’s not exactly available to the public. In fact, one of my requests to Celestia before I moved in was that no one could even visit the island without my permission.”

“So… Celestia just gave you an entire island?” asked Octavia.Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t resist stealing another glance of that zebra. He was captivating, almost too attractive to be believed. Every time Octavia’s eyes passed over his hunky, beefy form her heart skipped a beat. “And you decided to build a resort on it just for fun?”

“Well, yes and no. She didn't give me an island as much as she, eh… Made it. Just a snap of her fingers and some complicated Latin,” explained Rarity with a grin. “After the princesses retired, they wanted to thank us for our work defending Equestria. Since they were no longer royalty, they felt that they could show a bit of favoritism for once. They gave us each one wish, and my wish was for a tropical island paradise to vacation at.”

“I see. And the staff all being zebras was just a coincidence or…?”

“Oh, that's by design. Honestly, do I even have to explain myself?” Rarity peered around the room, until she saw that zebra that Octavia had been eyeing, and grinned. Octavia looked on in horror, because it was evident that Rarity had noticed her preoccupation with the stud in the thong. “You there! Yes, you sexy thing, you! A moment?”

“Oh my God, Rarity,” hissed Octavia, turning to face away from the approaching zebra. Her cheeks were flush, radiating bright red heat as her heart thumped against her ribs. “W-what are you doing?!”

“Yes, my queen?” he said. His voice was deep, smooth. Velvety, like a bass line. Just those few words were enough to make Octavia’s knees weak. “How many I serve you?”

“Your name, please.”

“Z’umba, son of Z’aria.”

“Lovely. Z’umba, darling, this is my good friend, Octavia. She'll be spending the weekend here with me,” explained Rarity. “She won't come out and say it, but she fancies you quite a bit. She's been undressing you with her eyes since we walked in.”

“Rarity!” Octavia hid her face in her palms, just about ready to die from embarrassment. Z’umba’s smooth, sexy chuckle sent chills down her spine, and Octavia held on tight for fear of disintegrating on the spot.

“Undressing me with your eyes, hm?” he chuckled. “I suppose the uniform does most of the heavy lifting for you.”

“Actually, I'm still a bit worried the uniform might be a bit too conservative…” mused Rarity. She shook her head. “Nevermind that for now. Z’umba, please tell Octavia what you do here.”

“My job is to serve my queen, Mistress Rarity, and see to her needs as well as those of her guests,” reported Z’umba. “Whatever your desire, I am here to fulfill it.”

“See? Isn't this just paradise!” Rarity leaned against Z’umba, her crimson acrylic nails tapping sensually against the zebra’s atlasean abdominals. “A beautiful island resort with all the amenities one could ask for, and a full staff of handsome hunks to wait on me hand and foot. If there really is a heaven, then the angels pray they get to come here when they die.”

“D-don’t you think it's a bit inappropriate?” stammered Octavia. “To be… touching your staff like that, I mean.”

“Z’umba?” said Rarity.

“Yes, my queen?”

“Would you be at all opposed to me grabbing your bulge?”

“Not at all, my queen.” Z’umba didn't flinch as Rarity cupped his package, sensually caressing his mighty bulge with thin, sensual fingers. Octavia watched through her fingers, unable to tear her gaze away from the incredible male specimen before her. “Of course, if Miss Octavia would like to touch, that is also welcome.”

“Oh, that's quite alright! I'm perfectly fine!” Octavia lied through her teeth. It wasn't alright, and she wasn't fine. There was nothing she wanted more than to get her hands all over that striped skin, but she couldn't quite shake the sense that this was impolite, immoral, inappropriate. “I thank you for the offer, but—”

“Now, let's not be rude, Octavia,” purred Rarity. “The man offered, after all. Just one little touch won't hurt.”

“I… I can't just… Oh, blast it. I'm here, aren't I?” Octavia swallowed down her heart and, with a shaky hand, reached forward to grope Z’umba’s spear; It was so warm, so thick. The organ twitched slightly in Octavia’s grasp, almost as if alive. It was an exhilarating sensation to know that the only thing keeping that virile beast separate from her own delicate, feminine form was a thin scrap of blue cloth. “Oh my… You're quite… Oh dear.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” said Z’umba, smiling as Octavia turned to goo before his very eyes. “You're very kind.”

“Good girl. Unfortunately, we're a bit overdue for our first activity,” said Rarity. “You and I have a date with the masseuse and bottomless daiquiri bar.”

“Well, I do love a good daiquiri…” mused Octavia. She blinked and, after a moment to realize she was still fondling this perfect stranger, she snatched her hand away. “A m-masseuse, you say?”

“Darling, this place has everything. I could have someone do your taxes for you if you wanted. But for now, Z’umba? Please take Octavia’s bags to her room.”

“Yes, my queen.” Z’umba grabbed up all of Octavia’s travel bags in one hand. “The Master Suite, yes?”

“That is correct. Oh, and one more thing?” Rarity beckoned for Z’umba, who stopped down so that his mistress could whisper in his ear. After a few hushed sentences and glances to Octavia, he nodded in understanding. “Got that?”

“Of course. If you need anything at all, my queen, I will be available. For now, I should get these bags to Miss Octavia’s room now.”

“Hate to see you go, Z’umba,” sighed Rarity. She waved as the zebra turned for the door, and she grinned greedily with her eyes glued to his firm, sculpted backside. “But God in heaven, do I love watching you leave…”

“You're a pervert,” said Octavia finally. “You could have wished for anything on the planet and you chose… this. That's the only explanation, you're a pervert!”

“Octavia, darling, I am pushing 50. No husband, no boyfriend, not even a long-term booty call,” said Rarity with a smirk. “I think I've earned the right to be a pervert, and if God herself wants to descend from the heavens and offer me an island of studs to keep me company, then you had better believe I'm taking it.”

“Fair enough.” Octavia paused for a moment. “Hang on a second, you are not ‘pushing 50’! You're, what? 43, at most?”

“Oh, just go and spoil my drama, why don't you? Come along, Octavia. I can feel your tension, and you're really going to want that massage.”

After the brief process of checking in, Rarity led the way throughout the island grounds, extolling the various amenities of her resort as she did. Each additional activity and benefit only served to appeal to Octavia more, so much so that she was beginning to get quite excited for the weekend. From how Rarity explained things, there was everything she could possibly want. A bit spoiled for choice, Octavia was ultimately glad when Rarity funneled her to the bar for the daiquiri she had promised, and the two sipped their drinks and chatted all the way to the massage parlour.

“Here we are!” Rarity gestured with her drink to the canopy on the sand before them. Beneath the canopy was a series of eight or so massage tables, each with their own cart on which to place drinks and snacks. To the right of the tables was a partition, fully shaded for privacy in undressing, and waiting there were two zebras. Slightly more dressed than Z’ambu in the hotel, these two wearing violet speedos and sandals, they were entirely indistinguishable from one another save for one having their hair tied up, and the other letting his ebony and ivory locks dance down to his shoulders. “Ah, my boys. Very good to see you. This is Octavia.”

“Hello, ma’am,” said the zebra with the tied-up hair. “I am Zanzu, son of Zitara.”

“And I am Zanza, son of Zitara,” said the other. “We will be administering your massages today.”

“If you would kindly undress and lay on the table, we can begin.”

“Undress?” Octavia glanced to Rarity, more than a bit nervous at the idea of getting nude in front of two perfect strangers.

“Oh, relax. There’s towels behind the partition.” Rarity grabbed Octavia by the wrist and led her behind the partition. At her instruction, Octavia began to undress, while Rarity did much the same. “Sorry, boys, she’s a bit nervous. I know I normally give you a show, but poor girl needs me to hold her hand.”

“Hilarious. You’re very funny,” grumbled Octavia, finally peeling off the last of her clothes. There were two towels for each of them, hanging on a hook on the partition. Octavia wrapped one around her torso, and held onto the other one as Rarity directed her to the massage tables. Rarity, in stark contrast to Octavia, seemed to treat the towel more as a formality, and she dropped it almost immediately in order to lay face down on the nearest table. “My, you’re comfortable…”

“I’m the queen of this island, darling. Of course I’m comfortable!” laughed Rarity. “Would you boys mind turning around so she’ll finally get on the table?”

Octavia waited until she was certain that Zanzu and Zanza had averted their eyes, and only then did she remove her towel and clamber onto the massage table right beside Rarity’s. She tossed the extra towel over her bottom, and tried her best to get comfortable. Or, rather, as comfortable as she could manage, given the situation; Though her brief conversation with the brothers gave no indication that they were anything but friendly, gentle men, Octavia was still a bit anxious about this powerful, muscular stranger laying his big, strong hands on her dainty body. She could just imagine his strength, his thick fingers vigorously molesting her delicate body, his great palms gripping her with all of his might and leaving Octavia with no hope to escape his sensual power.

It occurred to Octavia, as she rubbed her thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the lustful fire between her legs, that perhaps “anxious” was the wrong word to use in this situation.

“If, at any point, I apply too much pressure for your comfort, please let me know,” said Zanzu. His voice wasn't quite as deep as Z’umba, not quite as smooth and seductive, but it sent tingles down Octavia’s spine nevertheless. “I’m going to start at your shoulder area. This oil is made from a special blend of herbs that only grow in Zebrica. It’s going to be a bit warm at first, but it should help you relax a bit. Are you ready for me to begin?”

“Y-yes. Fire away,” murmured Octavia. With her head in the face hole of the table, she couldn’t anticipate Zanzu’s touch, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when his hands made contact with her skin. His fingers were slick with the oil he mentioned, and Octavia had to stifle a satisfied whine as his digits worked her tense, aching shoulders. True to his word, the oil had a warming sensation, and the heat seemed to grow with the increasing pressure of Zanzu’s ministrations. “Bloody hell, that’s nice…”

“Told you,” sighed Rarity. Octavia couldn’t see much, but if she cocked her head a bit to the left, she could just barely make out Rarity receiving a message of her own just beside her. Unlike Octavia, who utilized her spa towel to preserve some degree of decency, Rarity was entirely nude for her massage. “Zanzu and Zanza were the two best masseuses in Zebrica.”

“I’m better, of course,” remarked Zanza. “Always have been.”

“Better at chasing off clients, maybe,” shot Zanzu. “The little brother has a big mouth. How does that work out?”

“You’re just jealous because Mistress Rarity requested me today.”

“Boys, boys, please. I assure you, there’s enough of me for you both to rub.” There was an almost wholesome glee to Rarity’s voice, who was clearly ecstatic to have two handsome men fighting over her. “Speaking of which, I believe my shoulders are all done for now. Why don’t you bring those big, strong hands of yours lower?”

“As you wish, my queen.”

“You know, masseuse is actually the feminine version,” said Octavia. She went nearly limp under Zanzu’s masterful movements. His dexterous fingers, combined with the mystical foreign oil, soothed Octavia’s muscles, and undid knots she didn’t even realize she had. He caressed her shoulder blades, moving up and down the length of her back with a strong, even pressure that made Octavia want to just melt away beneath his fingertips. “The male equivalent is ‘masseur’, but truthfully, I believe the preferred nomenclature is massage therap—EEP!”

Zanzu’s hands brushed Octavia’s hips, his thumbs just barely grazing her ass before darting back up to the small of her back. Whether it be due to the oil, or Zanzu’s strong grip, or perhaps just the fact that Octavia was very much so on edge, that brief, gentle touch set off alarm bells for Octavia. Just as quickly as it had started, it was over, and Octavia was incredibly glad to know that no one could properly see just how much she blushed.

“Is everything okay, ma'am?” asked Zanzu. “Did I go too low for your comfort?”

“N-no, no. Just took me by surprise, is all,” said Octavia. “Please, continue. That felt quite nice.” There was a snicker from the neighboring table, and Octavia popped her head up to glare at Rarity. “Oi! What's so funny?”

“You get to ask a stranger to keep groping your ass and yet I’m the pervert?” snickered Rarity. “At least I actually know the twins. You've only just met them.”

“Are you taking the piss? Asking for a massage therapist to continue with the massage is not even in the same universe as what you do.”

“Hm. I suppose not. What I do is much more fun,” said Rarity with a grin. She wiggled her hips, gently shaking her soft, cushy posterior. “Zanza, darling, if you don't mind? And be generous with the oil, my derriere just soaks it up.”

“Of course, my queen.”

Octavia watched for a moment as Zanza poured nearly a full glass vial of oil all along the surface of Rarity’s ass and proceeded to work it into her soft skin. His fingers gripped Rarity’s cheeks, squeezing them firmly before releasing and letting them bounce slightly in reaction to his hands. The way she whined and whimpered, her breath catching in her chest and coming out in slightly strained puffs, soon became too much for Octavia to ignore.

“Erm… if it's not a bother,” said Octavia quietly. “Zanzu, would you kindly… go a bit lower. Like your brother is for Rarity.”

“Of course, ma'am,” said Zanzu with a nod. “And if I'm too rough with you—”

“Oh, she's not made of glass, Zanzu,” breathed Rarity. “Knead her cheeks like you're making fresh bread.”

“M-maybe not quite that haaaahhhhh…”

Octavia’s sentence fell apart into a breathy sigh upon Zanzu firmly grabbing her rear beneath the towel, and running his hands along the curve of her ass. Though not quite as voluptuous as her friend besides her, Octavia still had more than a fair amount of cushion, and Zanzu seemed intent on working every last inch of it. His practiced hands played Octavia like a grand piano, and she might have been embarrassed by the little noises she made if she wasn't distracted by how damn good it felt. And yet, throughout it all, Octavia wasn't thinking about her mewls and whines, not of what Rarity might think, not even of Zanzu himself. Instead, her mind was occupied by thoughts of Z’umba, and his unparalleled sexual energy. Zanzu was lovely, of course, and she was thankful to have such an excellent massage therapist, but just the thought of Z’umba playing her like a harp was almost enough to drive Octavia crazy.

After her backside, Zanzu made quick work of Octavia’s legs; His fingers worked along the length of her thighs, all the way to her calves, and finally her feet. Each of his movements undid hours of stress that Octavia had unknowingly been carrying with her all this time. By the time the massage was finished, Octavia felt like she was floating, weightless. Not a care in the world, save for the blazing desire between her legs.

“Bloody hell,” moaned Octavia. “Bloody… hell…”

“He's good, isn't he?” giggled Rarity. She sat up and, almost as an afterthought, covered her breasts with her arm. “My robe, Zanza. If you don't mind terribly.”

“Of course, my queen.”

Just as Zanza produced a luxuriously comfortable silk robe for Rarity, so too did Zanzu offer a matching one to Octavia. He went to turn away, as he did before, but the massage seemed to relax Octavia enough for her to sit up on the table and dress herself right before their eyes. Rarity noticed, and gave Octavia an annoyingly knowing little nod, which was likely to grate on Octavia were she not currently on cloud nine.

“Do you accept tips?” asked Octavia. “Hands down, best massage I've ever had.”

“That's not necessary, ma'am,” Zanzu assured her. “Mistress pays us very well.”

“And you lot earn every last cent,” remarked Rarity. “Although, Octavia, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a tip. Or more, if you ask nicely.”

“Oh, stuff it.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “So. What's next?”

“I’m a bit peckish, personally. Dinner?” Rarity grinned when Octavia nodded. “Excellent. The dining room should be ready for us.” She turned to the twins, inspecting one then the other very carefully. “Hm… Boys, I think I'd like for you to wait on me for the rest of the evening.”

“Of course, my queen.”

“It would be our pleasure, my queen.”

“You know, you'd think that would get old after a while,” sighed Rarity wistfully. “And you'd be dead wrong.”

“Crimey… Let's get you to dinner,” sighed Octavia “Before you sink your teeth into your staff.”

“Wouldn't be the first time. And trust me, they won't mind.”

After a wonderful time exploring the hotel, after the sun had set and Rarity had flirted with no fewer than six more of her employees, it was about time to turn in for the night. The room where she’d be staying, Rarity assured Octavia, was of the utmost luxury and beauty, with a full mini-bar, a television with every channel and streaming service known to man, and a line to the 24-hour kitchen in case she desired a late night snack. It was exactly the sort of pampering that Octavia needed, and despite the fun she had with her friend, all she wanted in that moment was to collapse into bed.

“Wakeup call is at 8AM,” said Rarity. She sat atop the twin’s wide, muscular shoulders, using their flesh as her incredibly sexy mobile throne. “Breakfast at 9. There's still plenty to do on the island, so I imagine we can work out the rest of our itinerary from there, yes?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Octavia with a nod. “Goodnight, Rarity. Have a good night's rest.”

“Oh, I don't plan to sleep just yet. You.” She pointed beneath her to Zanzu. “I want you to eat me like a ripe mango, and I want you.” She pointed to Zanza. “To fuck my face like a cheap whore. You can switch when you get tired.”

“Dropping all pretenses, hm?” said Octavia with a shake of the head. “Oh well. Have fun, I suppose.”

“Wait, Octavia. Some advice, before you ‘turn in’ for the night.” Rarity descended from her improvised throne, and closed the gap between her and her friend just before Octavia’s hand reached her door handle. “Just relax. Don't tense up. Take your hands off the wheel. It'll seem as though it won't fit. It will.”

“What does that mean?” asked Octavia. Instead of an answer, all she got from Rarity was a scarlet grin. Again, Octavia shook her head, and reached for the door. “Good night, Rarity.”

“And to you, Octavia. Now come along, boys, your queen is ready to relax!”

Without another word to her friend, Octavia pulled open the door to her room and stepped inside. She was still walking on air from her massage, and her plan was to slide into bed and relax. Perhaps have a glass of wine and, if things got heated enough, slide a hand between her thighs to the thought of that man, that incredible hunk of a zebra Z’umba. As she stepped past the threshold, somewhat distracted by her own dirty thoughts, she realized that fantasizing probably wouldn't be necessary. Standing in front of her bed, somehow even more perfect and statuesque than she remembered, was Z’umba himself, wearing nothing but that sparkly thong and a flirtatious smirk.

All of a sudden, Rarity’s advice made a lot more sense.

“Hello,” said Z’umba with a smile. “I had your bags unpacked, and I ran a bath for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m going to kill her,” said Octavia, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I mean it, I’m going to strangle her!”

“I agree she probably should’ve warned you, but Mistress Rarity insisted it be a surprise.” Z’umba stepped to the side, gesturing to the bed. “That said, all I was told was to wait for you and offer you my company. If you’d rather spend your evening alone, I won’t take any offense.”

“Wait!” Octavia reached for Z’umba with a bit more desperation than she was entirely comfortable with displaying, but she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed him around the arm, an indescribably electric charge sparking between them when Octavia touched his bicep. Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her grip of the zebra’s firmly muscled limb nonetheless. “You’ve been waiting for me all day. I’d hate for it to be for nothing. I was planning to order some wine, perhaps you’d join me?”

“But of course. Although, placing an order won’t be necessary.” Z’umba crossed the room, Octavia still hanging onto his arm, and he flipped a switch on the wall. Rather than turning out the lights, a panel in the wall popped out and slid up on sleek, chrome mechanical arms. In the space that the wall previously covered sat a rack containing several bottles of wine, with a similar rack of wine glasses sliding out just above it. “Are we in a red or white mood tonight, ma’am?”

“Red, please.” Ever a lover of wine, Octavia was finding it harder and harder to deny Rarity’s claims of her resort being paradise with each passing moment. She needn’t wait long for Z’umba to select a vintage, pop open the bottle of cabernet, and pour out a glass for Octavia and himself. Once Octavia had her wine, Z’umba led her to the bed, where the two sat and shared a toast. “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“I live to serve.” Z’umba cracked a smile, and Octavia did her best to return it before taking a healthy sip of wine. “Would it help to talk about it?”

“Hm?” Octavia cleared her throat, as if she didn’t know precisely what Z’umba was talking about. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I understand being a bit nervous. I gather that Mistress Rarity didn’t tell you the particulars about the resort?” said Z’umba. Octavia nodded. “This must be quite the shock. Well, Miss Octavia, I just want it to be clear that, despite the uniform, Mistress only employs gentlemen here. I only wish to go as far as you’re comfortable with.”

“See, that’s just the thing. You’re wonderful. Quite possibly the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” said Octavia. “But when Rarity invited me for the weekend, I was expecting mud masks and wine tastings, not scantily-clad manservants offering sexual encounters.”

“Of course. And if you don’t want—”

“It has been six months since I last had sex, Z’umba. I have been working like a dog. I’m a bloody volcano right now, as far as tension goes.” Octavia gulped down her wine and dropped the glass onto the bed. “So, yes. I think I do want. I think I just need you to… make the first move.”

“Oh, Miss Octavia. That’s all you needed to say.”

Just like that, before Octavia knew what was happening, they were kissing. Strong hands gripped her face, and Octavia melted at their touch. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she couldn’t help but reach forward and place her palms on the broad, muscular striped chest of the man who had unknowingly wound her around his finger from the first moment they locked eyes.

Z’umba pulled away slowly, leaving Octavia whining and wanting for more. Thankfully, more was on the cards, as Z’umba wasn't so much retreating as he was redeploying; With a strong hand, he pushed Octavia’s shoulder to the mattress and slid down the length of her soft, supple body. He undid the string keeping Octavia’s robe intact and peeled her legs apart, laying down a line of kisses all along her inner thigh. Octavia’s breathing quickened, going from long, steady inhales to sharper and shallower attempts to suck in air the higher up Z’umba’s lips went. He was teasing her, and while Octavia could appreciate the foreplay, she needed more of this exotic beauty, and she needed it now.

When Z’umba finally brought his lips to her pussy, it was as though the world stopped spinning. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing but Z’umba’s firm lips against her vulva, the way his tongue slithered out to tend to her wanting body. Octavia grasped the sheets, her head thrown back as she struggled to breathe at all, nevermind make a sound; She was paralyzed by pleasure. It had been so long, and the weight of the world had been bearing down on Octavia all this time, it was a wonder that she didn't blow her top immediately.

But she didn't. She was able to enjoy herself, take in the wonderfully electric tingling of Z’umba’s tongue dancing on her clit. It was magic, plain and simple, and the best evidence thus far as to why Rarity had decided to hire such particular help. Z’umba wasn't just eating her out, he was devouring her, savoring her every drop and diving back in for more. He grabbed her by the thighs, holding Octavia in place as he attacked her gushing nethers with a skilled, expert tongue. All of the stress, all of the worries, every responsibility and obligation just melted away with each flick of the tongue. Her body quivered, her toes curled, and she nearly tore the sheets off of her bed when, finally, she came.

Octavia tried not to scream, to maintain some degree of composure, but she was wholly unsuccessful. She could hear her own voice bouncing off the walls, and we're her brain not muddled such that she struggled to string together a coherent thought, Octavia would probably be embarrassed by what she heard. Desperate howls and pitiful whines. Animalistic grunts and blasphemous exclamations. And throughout it all, interspersed with her moans and swears, was one word. A name.

“Z’umba… Oh, flippin’ hell, Z’umba,” she breathed. “You…I'm… Celestia’s thong, Z’umba, where’d ya learn to do that?”

“In Zebrica, we take our women's pleasure very seriously,” explained Z’umba with a smirk. “As a man, you aren't considered to have truly lost your virginity until you have pleasured a woman with your mouth alone.”

“Sounds like my kind of country.” Oxtavia breathed heavily, one arm over her face as she caught her breath. “Nobody’s ever ate my muff like that before. Fuck me running, I needed that…”

“Heh. You’re a lot more… colorful than you let on.”

“Sorry. Sort of just slips out in times like these. Although, can’t recall ever having a time quite like that…”

“I’m happy to be of service, Miss Octavia,” said Z’umba. “If you desire more servicing…”

“Oh, most definitely. But, first, if it’s not inappropriate for me to ask…” Octavia slowly sat herself up, fanning her sticky, sweaty body with her hand. “Mind leaving your phone number for me?”

“I certainly don’t, but Mistress Rarity has already had me added to your ‘rider’, for want of a better word. Whenever you visit the resort, I will be here to answer your beck and call.”

“Always planning ahead, that Rarity… Still, I’d like that number, if you don’t mind,” said Octavia. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”

For just a second, Z’umba paused, taken off guard for the first time since meeting Octavia. Then, he smiled, and gave an earnest nod.

“I’d love to, ma’am. She sounds lovely.”